


Suitable Sentiment

by vampiric_mcd



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: F/M, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-19
Updated: 2010-08-19
Packaged: 2017-10-11 04:04:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/108180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vampiric_mcd/pseuds/vampiric_mcd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco Malfoy finally learns how to admit to feeling emotions. He also realizes that despite all the superficial evidence, he is a child born to a marriage of passion. <br/>Yet sometimes, perspective and the lack or existence of endurance makes for a whole new reflection. Draco Malfoy just might have finally grown up during the summer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Suitable Sentiment

He had never had any complaint about his status in life. He was rich, spoiled and powerful. He was a wizard born into a long lineage of magically gifted people. There were no blemishes to be noted in his family tree, because any imperfection was erased at the first perceivable notion of abnormal behaviour. Muggle alliances, squibs and outright rebellions were the cause of a few burned out names on both of his family tapestries.

To him, everything was as it should be. Draco Lucius Malfoy was the heir of Lucius Acerbus Malfoy and Narcissa Cassandra Black. He was the result of the union between the two of the most ancient of houses. Anyone worth anything that knew and respected the value of such a blood union envied and respected his combined lineages. Unlike some of the less fortunate older bloodlines, both the Blacks and the Malfoys also had the money to back up their name.  
Even in his sheltered world, he was considered privileged amongst his pre-approved peers.

In short, Draco had led the most perfect life in all of wizarding Great Britain.

There were a few drew backs which were accepted and even expected in their circles.

He had agreed to marry Pansy Parkinson after his seventh year. He was engaged to a girl he detested, but he would marry her for the sake of purity and pleasing his father. He lived the life set out for him and never once gave serious consideration to thoughts about a different approach. His father never showed him much affection. He wouldn’t have learned anything about the ambiguous concept of love from looking at his parents interacting, nor had he ever learned how to truly express genuine emotion.

It simply wasn’t done.

Of course, any fool could also tell you that even attempting such a thing would only lead to endangering oneself. Perhaps it was also because of that belief more then anything else that the hat screamed his house so quickly. Perhaps that was the reason why it hadn’t even truly needed to touch his head before judging in his perceived favour.

After all, he had never known anything but the way of intrigue and deception, veiling of emotions and rigidity in affection.

It was part of who he was. It was a part of his essence.

Up until the summer after his fifth year, Draco had never assumed that he would waver in that opinion. Up until that summer, he had never dreamt that he could have been less blind to emotion and affection. He would have never considered that perhaps he would have preferred to lead a less privileged life in favour of actually _living._

  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

**When I saw you guys dancing in the sun,  
a shadow fell on my heart**

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

  
Draco watched the dance floor, taking in how his parents danced to a traditional wizarding waltz.

They moved elegantly to the music and they appeared to have only eyes for each other.  
In reality Draco knew that his father was probably calculating how long it would take before his mother’s attention wavered, so he could ask one of his mistresses to dance without Narcissa running interference.

His mother was probably thinking about how long it would take before his father would make the first move towards one of his several mistresses, whom she had personally invited to his engagement party to Pansy.

The illusion of propriety before revenge and Draco closed his eyes at the familiarity of it all. For once, it actually brought his spirit down. It wasn’t as if he had never seen this ritual before. He’d seen this and much more, shrugging it off easily and without thought – perceiving and accepting it as one of the aspects of his way of life.

Perhaps his engagement to Pansy made the never-ending cycle of lies and deception more factual and actual to Draco himself. He wondered how long it would take before it would be him and Pansy dancing to that waltz. How long would it be before Pansy had to invite whores into her house and watch them dance with Draco.

Would he care?

Would she?

The unpleasant business with the ministry and the whole Dark Lord issue paled in comparison to the ruses at a Malfoy party. His father could talk his way out of Azkaban any day; a confrontation with his mother was a whole other matter entirely.  
After all, Draco only had to consider his attendance to Hogwarts to prove his mother’s cunning. His father would have packed him off to Durmstrang for a year-round education.

Was he destined for this life – the same life? Was he destined to plot and scheme his entire existence, just to make it bearable? For the first time in his lifetime, the promise of subterfuge didn’t hold the same thrill he normally felt. It left him empty and cold.

A touch to his arm startled him, though he was sure that nothing gave that away. He looked into Pansy’s clear blue eyes and his lips unwittingly curled up into a hopeful smile. She frowned but perfunctorily smiled back, slightly puzzled.

It reminded him that they neither loved nor cared for each other and suddenly – momentarily – Draco felt as if the life was being squeezed out of him.

The smile left this face and he turned away from both his bride to be and his parents performing this unrelenting battle of wills.

He caught the gaze of his Potions Professor Severus Snape, his godfather and Death eater brother in arms to his father. For a brief moment, something akin to surprise flitted across the man’s features.  
Draco looked back at the dance floor as the music stopped. His father bowed to his mother and kissed the back of her hand. She smiled at the same perfunctory smile that Pansy had. He couldn’t discern a shred of real happiness in her gaze, though. Draco wondered if it was the experience that had worn away any expectations his mother might have once had.

  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

**You were the worst mistake she ever made**

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

  
The day before his engagement party, his mother had gifted him with the Malfoy ancestral pentacut emerald silver rings.

They were the engagement rings that every Malfoy before him had worn, a matched pair for groom and bride to be. Those rings were replaced after the wedding with solid silver rings, lying in wait for the promise of the next Malfoy union. The wedding rings, according to Malfoy tradition, were personally created and often shaped to unconscious desires or legacy. His father’s ring had an intricate pattern of snakes representing his Slytherin sorting, while his mother’s bore Celtic knots, which was a link to an obscure part of the Black lineage.

His mother also finally allowed him accesses to one of her many private suites. This particular one housed a spell-preserved suite. It was the room that she had used to prepare for her wedding. An impressive white silk robe was suspended in midair, giving the illusion of an invisible woman cloaked in the fine material. A veil and gloves embroidered with the Malfoy and Black crests accompanied the wedding robe. Crystal slippers peeked out from underneath the white hem that was strategically draped over the floor.

And abundance of white roses decorated the room, still smelling as sweet as they had on his mother’s wedding day. The boudoir still had open jars of lotion and Draco could see some make-up utensils that he vaguely recognised from his mother’s present bedroom boudoir.

The canopy bed held white satin sheets, curtains and pillows. The bed was unmade and several of the pillows were scattered around the bed. Draco assumed that the room was still in the state that his mother had left it on the morning of her wedding day - except for her garments of course. It wasn’t unheard of to have such a room, but not many women were able to spell the room to such a function. It required a certain degree of intention and power. He’d never thought his mother to be capable of it, truth be told. He never doubted her magical potential, of course. But to be able to spell a room like this, one had to have passion and love for the union they were about to make. He’d never thought either of his parents capable of a love that defied the laws of time itself.

He looked at his mother and smiled. She didn’t smile back.

She looked to her left. Draco followed her gaze and held in the gasp that wanted to escape. There against the wall stood a low table, placed at the middle of the wall. It held a silver pensieve. A single white rose and the silk cords that had been used to bind his parents were lying on either side of the pensieve.

Together, they walked to the table and Draco bent over it. The silver grey strands that contained his parents’ wedding day shifted in the viscous liquid of the pensieve.  
He looked at his mother, and smiled at her nod of approval. They reached out into the pensieve at the same time. Immediately the memory that his mother wanted him to see came to the forefront.

_“Narcissa Cassandra Black, you stand before kin and your chosen. Truth, loyalty and the sanctity of blood shall be your responsibility in this unification. Do you stand here willingly? Do you consent to this union of ancient blood?”_

Blue eyes and a silver gaze, separated only through a veil. Love and affection for this man – her soon to be husband. Nothing will ever tear her away from his side and this could very likely be the most beautiful day of her life.

“I – Narcissa Cassandra Black – who stand before kin and my chosen today, consent to this marriage of souls, this unification of lineage and accept the bond that will never allow for separation.”

She spoke the words that would grant her wish for a happy life a possibility. Her mother and father, black to the core of their souls – representatives of the life she longed to escape – shifted slightly. She looked at Lucius and smiled. Unaware of herself, she radiated true happiness.

She elegantly raised her arm and hand. Silver cords wound around her wrist and she waited for Lucius to be addressed.

“Lucius Acerbus Malfoy, you stand before kin and your chosen. Truth, loyalty and the sanctity of blood shall be your responsibility in this unification. Do you stand here willingly? Do you consent to this union of ancient blood?”

A twist of lips that stripped Narcissa of her own smile and silver eyes looked at her with avarice. And for the first time, she wondered if she could discern any happiness in his gaze.

“I – Lucius Acerbus Malfoy – who stand before kin and my chosen today, consent to this marriage of souls, this unification of lineage and accept the bond that will never allow for separation.”

The cords tied to Narcissa’s wrists wound themselves around Lucius’ – enslaving her to her passion.

For one moment time stopped.

The cords tightened, and then vanished. Lucius smiled and Narcissa released the breath she didn’t know that she had been holding.  
They leaned forward and kissed chastely. The veil separated them. The feel of the material pressed against her lips was smooth yet constricting. She opened her eyes and stared at her husband, her salvation – her downfall.

  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

**And she laughed too loud at your jokes, yes I know you were funny  
But I couldn't laugh... because I knew where it would lead**

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

  
Draco nodded at the Crabbes as they entered the room. Everything was running smoothly up until now, although the house elf announcing them quivered in fear as Crabbe Sr. eyed it appraisingly. The man’s _tastes_ were well known in _certain_ closed circles. Draco knew beyond a doubt that the house elf would beg his father for clothes once the other man requested its presence in the bedroom later that night. He also knew that the house elf would receive neither mercy nor banishment. He faintly wondered if the creature would live to see the next day.

Draco hid his revulsion of this particular vice carefully and kissed Madam Crabbe’s hand. They exchanged pleasantries, ignoring the fact that Crabbe Sr.’s eyes still hadn’t left the very pale house elf. Draco was about to inquire to their plans for the rest of the summer, when the sound of laughter drew his attention away from his welcoming duties. The Crabbes excused themselves and moved further into the room.

Draco hardly noticed as the circle of people surrounding his parents captured his attention. Judging by the looks of it, his father had once more revealed one of his witty anecdotes. The people that had been listening were all laughing politely, mostly spurred on by the attractive and inspiring laughter of his mother.

Sharp white teeth revealed to all and her mirth echoed through the room. To Draco’s eyes, she had never looked as unhappy as she did at that precise moment. Narcissa looked at him and the corners of her lips wavered slightly. She quickly looked away.

Draco hoped that they wouldn’t be throwing any more of these little soirées this summer.  
Of course, the little debacle of last months pretty much guaranteed that Lucius would be schmoozing all summer. His reputation could certainly use it.

Draco’s own lips quirked up into a semblance of a smirk. At this rate, they would be inviting halfbloods and mudbloods. He wouldn’t put it past his father, truth be told. Of course, the entire house would have to be respelled before they could actually enter Malfoy Mansion without being targeted by the very house magic itself. Draco snorted softly.

The arrival and subsequent announcement of the Parkinsons made Draco turn back to the door automatically and welcome them with every fibre of grace that he possessed.

He bowed to Pansy and kissed the back of her hand. As he bowed, he absentmindedly noticed that her emerald caught the light of the chandelier, shining vivaciously – a mockery of the life and love they were supposed to share. He raised his eyes to hers and tried not to wince at the giggling his actions provoked.

Behind him, his mother’s laughter echoed through the room once more and Draco closed his eyes briefly.

He wished the reprieve would last him an eternity.

The next announcement shattered the illusion quite rapidly, however.

  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

**Now the anger has drowned out all the jokes,  
she doesn’t laugh anymore  
See the pain in her smile**

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

  
Another party and another soiree. Draco could die a happy man if he never had to be at a similar function again. The future didn’t look all that bright however, seeing as the next week was booked solid with occurrences such as these. One more flute of champagne or one more bite of caviar and Draco would scream.

Fortunately, Severus had made it to this particular atrocity. Judging by the scowl the man wore; Draco concluded that his presence could be explained by the fact that his godfather had probably reached the proper limit of turning his father down, rather then any real interest in the occasion.

Severus looked his way and Draco smiled. His godfather inclined his head and Draco took it as a cue to join him.

As he walked over to the other side of the room, he caught a glimpse of his father leaning into Madame Laurents. A blonde, curly haired 30-something former Hufflepuff with not one ounce of discretion in her body. The woman blushed prettily at something his father whispered and Draco looked away. One of his father’s pure-blooded whores, the man always had a knack for mixing business with pleasure. Lucius’ attraction was severely helped by the fact that the woman’s oblivious Hufflepuff husband owned a large number of shares in one of the affiliates of Gringotts. Sometimes he wondered if his father ever fucked anyone when there was merely pleasure to be gained from it. Draco doubted it sincerely.

Unwittingly, his eyes strayed towards his mother.

She was smiling at something Madame Zabini was regaling the women around her with ~ ever the gracious host ~. Draco still caught see the look of absolute rage and ragged pain she gave his father, though. He picked up a glass of scotch from one of the strategically placed trays, hoping to Merlin that it would squelch the overwhelming taste of inexplicable bitterness that threatened to consume him.

He smiled politely at his godfather and inquired to the potions projects, he knew the man had running.

  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

**And she's tried, yes she's tried to run away,  
but you would not let her go  
You are her ball and her chain**

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A younger Narcissa drew the hood of her cloak up.  
Several strands of golden hair escaped the dark material but she could care less. She turned back to take in the foyer of Malfoy Manor one last time. The moon lit the chamber up brilliantly, as stray rays were caught in crystal ornaments and mirrors. She closed her eyes briefly.

She inhaled sharply and turned to the house elf that was holding her newly born son. Environment charms made sure that the baby was comfortable. She smiled wanly as the small child opened its eyes and let loose a small cry. He would almost completely look like Lucius, she absently noted. The only real difference was that she had recognized herself in his gaze, though the orbs were already a defined Malfoy silver-grey.

She bent down and took the baby from the trembling house elf. It would most likely be killed for letting her and the heir go, but Narcissa couldn’t think about that. Nor could she take the creature with them, for all bound house elves could be located by the Master of their house by a mere wand movement.

“Thank you Dibby.”

The house elf bowed several times, though couldn’t seem to stop shaking.

“Madame, be going now, yes going.”

Narcissa inclined her head and held the baby more securely against her body. She turned to leave through the foyer doors, when she stopped moving all together. Only instinct made her keep her firm grip on the baby.

At the entrance of the house stood a figure, clad in Death Eater robes and Death eater mask. Silver eyes looked at her and her outfit. They flicked down to the baby she held, their child. His eyes landed on the house elf that passed out when his gaze fell on the creature.

Hard orbs of granite looked back at her.

Lucius moved up the foyer stairs until he reached the landing where Narcissa stood. The only true sign of a less then perfect composure was that he took the stairs two footholds at a time.

He slowly reached out and grabbed her chin, raising it gently but intently. She locked gazes with the man she was bound to for all eternity and she damned the fluttering of love she still felt for him – the love she feared that she would feel for the rest of eternity.

He let go of her and took off his mask. It fell to the floor but neither cared. All that mattered was the two of them, here and now.

“Wife.” He whispered, his voice so infinitely fragile for the very first time. It was enough to make her breath catch.

Silence reigned supreme for a moment.

“Husband.” She replied softly.

Lucius placed his arm around her shoulders as they turned back, walking towards their chambers. The only sound that was uttered was a cry the baby made.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

**Now I wish you were dancing in the sun,  
but the steps were all wrong**

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

  
Her casket was made out of the finest see-through crystal that could be used for such a purpose. The preservation charms would guarantee that her beauty would not fade away, unless the casket should to be broken.  
A dozen or so unbreakable charms laced the casket to prevent just that. Several curses and hexes lied dormant in and around the crystal enclosure, so that none would be able to break it accidentally of intentionally.

The entire social elite was present, as were several high placed ministry officials. Draco had been the one to organize the funeral. Lucius was sitting beside him at the front, seemingly emotionless – but Draco knew that his father was broken.

The man was a wreck, though you couldn’t tell by looking at him at the moment. Draco knew better. The man had raged and sobbed by his mother’s body, casting every healing spell that he knew – ranging from light to dark arts. He’d nearly killed the mediwizard that had pronounced his mother’s death and had rebutted all condolences.

The last 24 hours, the man had been all but catatonic. He had only moved to dress and groom himself according to the respect he felt his wife deserved. Thus, an impeccably groomed Lucius Malfoy watched the proceedings with deadened eyes.

Draco had always thought that his father did not love his mother with a grand passion, but rather valued her for her skills and cunning. He never knew how wrong he had been until he had seen his father break down.

Draco looked around, still checking to make sure that everything was as it should be. He reached out to pick up one of the black roses that decorated the entire Malfoy estate. It smelled sweet and looked so very beautiful. His eyes strayed to his mother’s body. The black roses in the casket would be preserved for all eternity. He tightened his grip on the flower’s stem and relished in the pain. It made him feel. He wanted to feel. He needed to feel. Draco feared that if he ruthlessly squashed every emotion, he would never be able to feel again.

He had lost his mother.

He glanced at his father. He wondered if he would have to bury his last remaining parent before the solstice announced itself. He certainly feared he would have to.

As his mother’s favourite hymn echoed over the grounds, both Malfoys stood up in honour to the woman they had lost. The assembled mourners followed their example. Silence ruled.

Draco glanced behind him.

Everyone was dressed in black garments and no woman was without a black veil per his request. The mourning black mass was an impressive sight, but Draco could care less about the success of his organisational skills. He had lost the greatest woman in his life, and none of these so-called mourners had loved her like he had done. They had wanted to see her humiliated and disgraced. As always, she had had the last word and had won the war – but at such an unbearable cost.

As the last notes of the hymn faded away, traditional vows were uttered as one by everyone present.

“Resquiat in pace”

The crowd was lying to rest the woman renowned for her power and her control, her skill and her cunning. Though most of them had been envious of his mother, they had respected her. They mourned the façade they had known.

Draco bowed his head.

He, however, was laying his mother to rest. He mourned the passing of his creator and inspiration.

Lucius mourned the loss of the other half of his soul.

As the crowd – except for the pallbearers and their chosen inner circle – started to migrate towards the mansion, Draco heard his father whisper a few lines of Dante.

“I will not tell you who this lady is  
except by naming her true qualities.  
He who does not deserve grace  
may no more hope to have her company.”

Draco closed his eyes, but could not stop the tear that escaped. He reached for his father and inhaled sharply as the man grasped his offered hand. His father squeezed his hand once, and then let it go. Draco looked at him and in Lucius’ gaze he saw utter devastation and ruin.

Draco nodded once to the pallbearers and they reached for the crystal casket, heaving it into the air. They marched towards Malfoy family crypt to finally give his mother the rest she so deserved and had grasped for herself. He hoped she was happy wherever she was, even if part of him resented her for leaving him to this ruination of what he had once perceived to be a perfect life.

  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

**So release her from her chains now  
With your jokes you imprisoned her heart,  
you never gave her a chance  
She never knew you couldn't dance...**

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A scream echoing through the eerily silent mansion woke Draco up. Instantly awake, he grasped his wand and looked from side to side. Not seeing anything threatening, He carefully made his way towards his parent’s rooms.

Another scream followed by the sounds of glass breaking reverberated through the mansion stopping Draco in his tracks. A sudden feeling of panic overwhelmed him as he contemplated the direction from where the source of the sound seemed to originate.

Without conscious thought, Draco began to run towards the wing where his mother’s secret suites were located. He took stairs at a speed that could cost him his life should he slip, but the coldness that seeped from the wing where he was headed made him careless.

As he turned around the last corner, entering the corridor that held most of his mother’s prized rooms, he slipped. Draco skidded along the floor, ending up sprawled against the wall. Groaning slightly, he stood and stilled.  
An opened black door had caught his attention. The door that had been white when he had seen it was now entirely opaque.  
Trembling, he walked towards it and braved a look inside the room. His breath hitched at the sight that greeted him. The entire room was utterly trashed. Glass and crystal lay broken on the floor. The furniture was broken and out of place. A sudden movement caught his attention. The morning light in the corridor only illuminated the once bright room sparsely.

The sight of his father picking up the broken chair was clear enough to see however. The man swung it and with a cry of utter rage, drove it into the upturned vanity mirror – shattering it completely.  
Draco flinched at the sight, but didn’t enter. Lucius looked at him but didn’t appear to truly see him. It was only as his father turned towards him that he could see that his father was crying – sobbing.

The room must have a special silencing ward, letting through cries of rage and sounds of devastation but holding in the resonance of grief. It could be the only clarification because his father was clearly crying loudly and unashamedly.

Before him stood the man that had instructed him countless times in the ways of emotionless appearances. Before him stood a man that despises overly open displays of affection.  
Before him stood a man that had never shed a single tear in Draco’s presence.

Lucius turned away from Draco and walked towards the darkest part of the room, the part where he knew the bed stood though he couldn’t see it.

Afraid and unwilling to accept what might be happening Draco gripped his wand tightly and spoke.

“Lumos.”

His wand lit up immediately. Slowly and mindful of the debris on the floor, Draco entered the room.  
His wand lit up brilliantly for a moment, washing the room in light so quickly that Draco squeezed his eyes shut for a moment.

As he opened them, he wished that he hadn’t done so at all.

Lying in the black clad canopy bed was his father. The man lay curled around what could only be the lifeless body of his mother. Whispers and memories of ancient rituals that his mother had mentioned to him flashed before his eyes.

He forced himself to walk closer to his parents and make sure – make sure that it wasn’t an illusion, wishing that it was while already knowing that it wasn’t.

His father lay shaking and crying, curled around his mother. Perhaps this most of all was the ultimate proof that Draco could ever require. The unmoving and auraless body of his mother merely confirmed his greatest fear.

Taking one last look at his father’s apparent display of grief, Draco walked away – he needed to contact St-Mungo’s and request the presence of a healer or a mediperson. His mother needed to be declared dead formally. He also needed to start contacting the necessary people, ensuring that his mother would receive the funeral befitting of her person.

There was no doubt in his mind that he would be the one that needed to do so. For the first time in his life, Lucius had seemed utterly human. Draco wondered if the sheer humanity would kill his father. Biting back his own grief, he took the floo powder. He needed to be the strong one now. His mother couldn’t be strong for him anymore after all.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

**Now the anger has drowned out all the jokes,  
she doesn’t laugh anymore  
See the pain in her smile**

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Finally, a night that could be spent in relative silence. There were people at the manor, but then there were almost always people at the manor these days. What was different was that there would be no schmoozing beyond the circle of their familiarity.

Only Death Eaters and their families were present, there was no need to watch his tongue and no need to hide his disdain for a certain Gryffindor-who-just-wouldn’t-die or know-it-all-mudbloods. He could be himself, as far as he had ever let anyone see the true him.

Of course there were rules to be followed and etiquette that should come naturally, but then those were ever-present aspects of his life. He knew which fork to use and which glass to drink from. He automatically addressed those present with the right titles and was pleasantly entertaining as someone in his position had to be. And although it all came naturally, it no longer came to him without consideration.

Even he, Slytherin Prince, had his limits and this summer has strained them continuously.

He looked around at the small party of about 30 people.  
Together here in the Purple Parlour were some of the most wanted fugitives in his world. Rabastan and Rodolphus Lestrange, his aunt Bellatrix, a few other revealed Death Eaters and convicted criminals were all present.

It struck him as ironic that some of the most feared wizards of this age, were also part of the most pure and influential of bloodlines.

This war would without a doubt be an end to an era either way. Sometimes, Draco wasn’t too sure which outcome he found more despicable. Either they were to be ruled by a half blood maniac, bent on making his pureblood servants crawl through the muck as lowly house elves. Or, they were to enter the ‘Age of Light’, where there would be no consideration or distinction between Darkness and Evil.

As night fell, about half the party suddenly gripped their forearms, their features twisting briefly into a grimace of pain. He looked at his father and watched impassively as to how he bade his mother good night. Spouses and couples quickly left towards the Malfoy apparition point, located right outside the ancestral house wards. They wouldn’t want to enrage their master.

His father lingered however, seemingly discussing something with his mother. Narcissa nodded once and Lucius kissed the back of hand. She smiled at him and Lucius turned to leave. His aunt Bellatrix, waiting at the entrance, smiled at his father.

For a moment, he could see the true beauty his aunt must have been when she was younger.

Unlike his mother, Bellatrix had lost most of her looks. Bellatrix had of course spent a stint locked up in Azkaban prison, while his mother had enjoyed the luxury of Malfoy Manor.  
Still, the woman could be devastatingly charming when she put her mind to it and not all of her former beauty was lost to her, per aide of spells, lotions and potions.

His father offered her his arm and she gracefully placed hers on his. Together they walked away yet as they turned, Bellatrix looked over her shoulder at his mother. A glint that promised victory and satisfaction gleamed in Bellatrix’ eyes.

Draco unconsciously balled his fist at this display of the most appalling of betrayals, but his mother drew the attention of all those hungry eyes, watching her with their hawk gazes, by standing up.

Her robe flowed sensuously and Draco could easily see why they would want her to fail. Why they would want her to break down and rage in front of them. She was the epitome of power and cunning and each of these Slytherin women present, would like nothing more then to be her – so they settled for trying to break her.

She snapped her fingers and several house elves immediately appeared, carrying trays of appetizers and flutes filled with champagne. She picked up two and walked confidently towards him.

As she reached him, she offered him one of the flutes. He accepted it with a nod. She smiled at him, eyes bright with emotion and streaks of cunning. She turned to their guests.

“A toast.” She spoke melodiously. “A toast to my son Draco, the next Lord Malfoy, and his fiancée Pansy.”

She raised her flute of champagne in the air. Draco followed her example.

“To the next Lord and Lady.” She intoned.

Everyone joined her in her toast, together they chorused.

“To the next Lord and Lady.”

This particular battle might have gone to Bellatrix, but no one in this room would disagree that the war belonged to Narcissa. She had triumphed once again.

Bellatrix might have left with her husband, but Lucius would return to Malfoy manor. And after their deaths, it would only be her name that would echo through the hallways of the estate.  
Only her heir, and through him her blood, that would rule once she was gone. Bellatrix might have lured Lucius to her bed, but it would only be Narcissa who would be remembered as Lady Malfoy.

To all present here, Bellatrix had just been degraded to one of Lucius’ many whores.

His mother was victorious once more. He was sure that she had never doubted that she would be and neither had he. Though, Draco wondered if she had ever expected to have to call on her triumphant status.  
The gleam of emotions he had witnessed in her gaze had left him ill at ease. It made him decide that Lucius might have finally destroyed all the remaining good intent his mother had towards his father.

He drank from his flute, though barely registered it.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

**And she's tried, yes she's tried to run away,  
but you would not let her go  
You are her ball and her chain**

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Endless parties after endless soirées after endless social events, Draco could almost taste the freedom that Hogwarts offered.  
Only one more week and he would return to a life of studying and Slytherin intrigue. For a while, there would be no more formalities to be followed and he might even have a chance to enjoy his freedom this one time. After the social summer of hell, Draco finally appreciated the freedom and the slight obscurity that Hogwarts offered him.

Although he had sulked about it most of his time at Hogwarts, Draco looked forward to the relative equality that he would be treated with there. Of course there was the status difference inside Slytherin House, but outside of the snake den he would be free.

It was hard to imagine really. Two more years of Hogwarts and he would leave, never to return again as a student – never to return again to enjoy the relative anonymity. He wondered if that was one of the reasons his godfather liked the gloomy dungeons so much. They offered him solace, silence and autonomy.

He shook himself slightly, bringing himself out of the partial haze he had been lost in. The sight of the last carriage with guests moving towards the gates enhanced the feeling of relief. Only one more week.

He turned away from the window and looked at his mother. She was ordering a small army of house elves, listing their additional duties and instructing them in the clean up that needed to occur. Draco never knew how filthy some guests dared to be. Didn’t the fools know that anything and everything would be reported back to Lucius, Narcissa or Draco?

He shuddered slightly.

He could have done without some information; then again, blackmail had always been a favourite of him.

He smiled slightly, already envisioning the results that the bargaining chips he had been dealt could provide. His mother snorted slightly, making him focus on her entirely. She smiled sadly at him and he frowned.

“Mother?”

She placed a finger on his lips.

“Hush, dragon.”

The hand curled around his chin and she lifted his head slightly. Should she have been anyone else, she wouldn’t even have reached his neck. She leaned in and kissed his forehead. He blushed slightly, though he didn’t know why. She trailed a finger over one of the offending cheeks but didn’t chastise him for this open display of a sudden lack of control.

“I love you.”

She spoke softly – so softly that he was scarcely sure that he had heard it. He swallowed harshly, unsure of how to react to the sentiment. He’d never learned this, never been sure how to act. Of course, he’d never expected to be in such a situation. He raised his eyes, locking their gazes.

“ – I – love you too.” Draco hesitatingly spoke.

Narcissa blinked, as if she hadn’t expected the sentiment to be returned. She smiled brilliantly, luring out an answering smile on Draco’s behalf.

“You have made me happy.” She whispered. “So very happy.”

The blush coloured even more. Narcissa chuckled. She kissed both his cheeks and drew him against her. He couldn’t remember the last time she had held him like this.

“Emotion can be your downfall if you let it my son.” She whispered into his ear. “Still, this is the happiest you have made me my dragon though it might also be the most selfish thing I have ever indulged in.”

She drew back slightly.

“Forgive me?”

He looked at her; no sentence only ever meant one thing with Slytherins. Draco knew that and yet he couldn’t her deny her anything.

“Always.” He spoke softly.

Narcissa rewarded this particularly unSlytherin sentiment with a tender kiss to his forehead.

It felt like love.

It felt like absolution

It felt like goodbye.

  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

**Now I wish you were dancing in the sun,  
but the steps were all wrong**

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

3 pallbearers stood on each side of the altar on which Narcissa’s coffin was placed. The mausoleum was a large underground complex that held several burial chambers. Draco knew that when the last one threatened to be filled, new chambers would emerge out of the stone bedrock. This room was cool and slightly arid. The ever-burning torches, lit when the first Malfoy was placed in this particular chamber, glowed evenly. They only illuminated the room enough to avoid collisions of any sort, but they oozed an eerie feeling of macabre heritage.

The light also made his mother’s crystal coffin glint fiercely. It almost seemed as if thousands upon thousands of diamonds were used to create the coffin, rather then crystal.

He wondered of his mother knew that the light would create such an effect, then decided that she must have because Narcissa never did anything impulsive. Draco assumed that her will wouldn’t have been any different from that.

Latin, Gaelic and French spells as well as curses echoed through the room as they watched the pallbearers perform their sacred duty. A sudden movement to Draco’s right made him clench his fists briefly.

The figure of a woman, dressed in fine materials and inconspicuous because of a heavy black veil, slipped in the space next to his father – the place of his mother.

_Bellatrix_

She had obviously not chanced being found out at the mass funeral, but she did dare to come into his mother’s last resting place. She would show up here and defile his mother’s memory by demanding Lucius’ attention for herself.

Draco turned and sought to look at his mother’s coffin and only that. He trembled from the injustice of it all, only minimally trying to contain his rage.

The last combined spell the pallbearers cast briefly created the image of a silver dome covering his mother’s body. It shimmered out of existence after a moment, yet Draco knew that it meant that all the proactive measures that they had provided had taken hold.

He bowed to his mother’s body. This was the last respect that he could give her. He would not start a scene here, not in front of all these people. He turned to bow at the small crowd of people. He inclined his head to them, silently thanking them for their participation the rituals that had taken place.

The pallbearers and select few that had accompanied them took their cue from his actions and left the sepulchre silently. Draco turned to leave as well, until a sudden shuffling of feet made him turn back.

H froze slightly as he watched his father violently draw back the hand that Bellatrix had sought to claim. His father’s eyes looked crazed and Draco knew it wasn’t just the meagre lighting that had created that maniacal glint in his father’s gaze.

He drew up his arm, hand balled up into a fist. For a moment Draco didn’t know if his father would strike his aunt or not. He didn’t know if he didn’t want that as well, though the location was all but well chosen. Of course, his mother probably would have found it appropriate.

“You will never have what she did, Bellatrix.” His father hissed. “And you will never be the woman – the witch – that she was.”

The cloaked figure flinched slightly.  
“Leave.” Came his father’s smothered voice.

The woman regally walked to the entrance of the burial chamber, then turned to look at them.

“I might not receive what I had sought to gain, Lucius, but you lost it ignorant of the fact that you had it.”

Bellatrix left and vanished from view, leaving the two remaining Malfoys alone with the body of the one they mourned.

The silence Bellatrix had left them in, felt particularly suffocating to Draco. Loathe to look at the closed eyes of his mother once more, his eyes shifted to his father’s form.

He flinched slightly as he saw his father begin to weep, for the second time in his young life.

Unlike the previous sobbing that he had witnessed, grief that had sprouted partly from rage, this show of emotions was silent and unerringly more painful to watch.

His father dropped to his knees and clutched his mother’s coffin, the wards lighting up the room so brightly that Draco had to shield his eyes. They were the only two who would be able to touch his mother’s coffin now.

As the light died down, he silently watched his father’s shoulders shaking.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

**So release her from her chains now  
With your jokes you imprisoned her heart,  
you never gave her a chance**

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Narcissa looked at the white door of the chamber she’d shown her child a few weeks ago. She slowly raised her right hand, and placed it against the smooth wooden door. She closed her eyes and gasped softly as she visibly paled. She withdrew her hand and watched silently how the outline of her hand slowly blackened until it stood out clearly on the white background. She smiled grimly.

The appropriate passwords and dewarding spells later, Narcissa entered the room and closed it behind her. The ever-present lumos glowed more strongly, illuminating the entire room.

She looked at the room and ignored the emotions of grief and rage that threatened to drown her. She closed her eyes as she cast several spells.  
The few paintings that had frames in this room woke up at her casting and murmured sleepily. She opened her eyes as one of them released what she had done.

She watched impassively as an ancestral Black forefather tried to leave his frame, but couldn’t. She locked eyes with him and knew he had realised what was about to occur. The man – Atrus – pursed his lips but nodded once. He knew of the injustice that had befallen her, the ultimate betrayal. They both knew that this would lay to rest all and any problems that might arise for her son should she continue to live out her life like she had been doing since her marriage.

She ignored the other painting screeching at her to release them from their bindings at once.

She walked towards the white boudoir and sat down on the low-legged chair. She raised her eyes and looked at herself in the vanity mirror. The woman staring back at her was a stranger.

She looked the same way she had the last time she had sat down here and prepared for a ritual, but she couldn’t recognize herself all the same. She reached for the necklace that hadn’t left her body since her majority and watched impassively as a Gringotts key appeared, dangling from it.

She turned to the side of the dresser and tapped it three times. A small ornately decorated trunk appeared and she opened it. Jewellery and documents filled the entire trunk. She placed the key above it all and locked it.

It vanished.

Aware that only her heir would be able to open and posses the trunk’s continents she turned to face the mirror.

She reached down and opened one of the drawers, taking out a white linen cloth. She looked at the open jars of lotions and potions and reached for the correct one. She dabbed her fingertips in the porcelain jar and scooped up a bit of lotion.

She rubbed her hands together, slowly heating the salve up. She opened her palms and applied the liniment to her face.  
She closed her eyes and smoothed it down over her eyelids as well. She reached for the linen cloth and slowly wiped away the balm.

She opened her eyes and looked at herself in the mirror.

She touched her forehead.

“Anima”

_Soul_

She touched her stomach, envisioning her whole body.

“Corpus”

_Body_

She touched her breast, feeling the pulse beat regularly.

Slowly she reached with her left hand for another drawer as she kept her other hand in place.

She opened the third drawer from the bottom and placed a sliver dagger on the boudoir, followed by a colourless flask, filled with an emerald tinged liquid. She fiddled with the cork for a moment then sighed as it gave way.

“Omnem humanitem et Dolores et alicuius rei exstirpamantur.”

_Heart._

Choking down all feelings and ruminations of regret.

She reached for the dagger with her left hand and pricked the finger that bore her wedding ring. A drop of blood immediately welled up and she smiled serenely. She tilted her hand and watched the drop fall into the wide-necked potion flask.

As the emerald liquid absorbed the blood, she watched how the potion turned black.

She gently placed the dagger down, picked up her wand and stood.

She reached for the straps of her night robe and lowered them off her shoulders, letting the roe fall to the ground at her feet. She stood naked save for her undergarments, her skin a sickly pallor, contrasting heavily with her golden hair and artic gaze.

She turned and walked towards her white wedding robe. A few spells later, the wedding robe split at the seam so she could easily slip inside it. As the fabric made contact with her body, the seam closed once more. The veil lowered itself over her hair and she slipped her feet into the precious crystal slippers.  
The embroidered gloves lowered in height, until she could slip her left arm in. She changed her wand to her left hand and slipped the remaining glove over her right hand and arm.

She inhaled sharply and flinched as the sweet smell of the hundreds of white rose, decorating the room, assaulted her senses.

For a moment, time stood still, just as it had in this chamber.

Narcissa opened her eyes and let her gaze fall unto the flask that was still placed on the table. She gripped her wand tightly, and then elegantly walked towards the vanity mirror and table. She picked up the potion and turned towards the canopy bed.

She noted that pillows still littered the floor, and the bed was still unmade. She hadn’t paid much attention to it the last time she was here, but then the pensieve had held most of her attention.

She left the pillows where they were, though spelled the bed so it looked impeccable.

She sat down, then inched her way over to the middle of the bed and lay down in the centre of it. She placed her wand on her chest, protected by her veil.  
She closed her eyes and brought the flask to her lips.

As she drank through the material, she was reminded of a kiss that happened an eternity ago. A moment later, she remembered nothing at all. Her body slackened slightly and the flask fell to the floor, shattering almost silently.  
She blinked once – twice – then slowly closed her eyes for all eternity.

The place through which she’d drunk on the veil turned black and slowly spread over the material. Slowly but surely every white piece of cloth and every single white rose in the room turned black.

Outside, the black handprint on the white door seemed to bleed out unto the veins of the very wood itself. As Narcissa’s heart stopped beating, the door had turned entirely black. As she breathed her last breath and her body stilled for her eternal sleep, the lumos that had withstood the passing of time slowly died down – until there was only darkness.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

**She never knew you couldn't dance**

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Draco looked at his father. Once the mourners had left the mansion the man had retreated into the destroyed chamber, and hadn’t left it for days now for. He was still dressed in his funeral robes and hadn’t bathed in the same amount of time.

The man hadn’t slept in days and certainly hadn’t eaten from what the house elves had told Draco.

He entered the room, moving past destroyed furniture and glass. He touched his father’s shoulder and flinched when the older man did. Lucius looked at him, eyes red. Draco’s gaze flickered to his father’s hands and his lips tightened.

The man was clutching his mother’s wedding ring. From the grooves gracing his hands, Draco reasoned that he had been doing so for quite some time. His eyes trailed up to the exposed and clearly reddened Dark Mark.

Draco knew that his father had ignored the callings of his so-called master. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

Draco had no intentions towards joining the man. Any idiot could see that the fool was clearly insane. The exile the ‘man’ imposed upon his half vanquished soul hadn’t helped his sanity at all. He could and should have killed his mortal enemy any number of times, instead of conjuring up theatrics.

The man was incompetent by any Slytherin standard and without doubt not up to ruling the wizarding world. He didn’t agree with the way of the light, but neither would he debase himself for a crazed halfblood who was intent on destroying everything Draco had ever known.

He lifted his gaze and met looked into his father’s eyes. Lucius’ gaze was the most lucid that it had been since his father found Narcissa’s body.

“We all have our ball and chain, Draco.” His father whispered, clutching his mother’s wedding ring tightly.

“Choose yours wisely and never forget what they are.”

Lucius looked at Narcissa’s portrait.

“It can destroy you if you do.”

Draco nodded once. He squeezed his father’s shoulder. The emerald engagement ring sparkled radiantly as it caught the light. Draco considered it for a moment.

“I will father.”

He turned away and walked out of the room.  
Draco walked towards the Red Salon, which overlooked the family crypt. He slowly sauntered towards the window and stared at the tomb of his mother and countless blood relatives.

He’d never found it quite as macabre as he did now. He remembered that he had been fascinated with the structure when he had been a young child. His father had delighted in his brazen approach towards death, his mother had always cautioned him that appearances could be deceiving – and that those were the most dangerous ones of all.

Without taking his eyes off of his mother’s grave, he slipped the emerald ring of his finger and clutched it harshly.

It vanished.

Draco knew that Pansy’s ring would have disappeared at the same moment, effectively breaking their engagement.

“I will father, I will.”

  
**The End**


End file.
